


Midnight

by Iolre



Series: You Can Be The Boss [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst, Crisis, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, MorMorMol - Freeform, Other, Panic Attack, Polyamory, Pre-Relationship, Schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-26
Updated: 2014-07-26
Packaged: 2018-02-10 13:02:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2026074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iolre/pseuds/Iolre
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The walk back to the house seemed to take forever. Seb was silent, his eyes constantly moving. The bag grew heavier, and Molly passed it from hand to hand. Her chest was growing tight, her pulse speeding up. The world felt like it was closing in on her. What was she doing? What had she been thinking? At her command, Seb had killed another person. What gave her that right? And then there was Sherlock -</p><p>Sherlock.</p><p>Oh god, Sherlock.</p><p>He was going to find the body and trace it back to Seb and Jim and Molly and she would lose her job and - “Molly?” Seb looked at her, quizzical, and Molly realized she had come to a stop in the middle of the pavement. “We’re almost there.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Midnight

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally written for round 2 of RPB, but work got in the way and I never finished it on time. Oops.

Surprisingly it wasn’t a long walk before Seb turned Molly with a hand on her shoulder, pointing her up a small, nondescript set of stairs. She eyed them curiously then waited for Seb to lead. He stood there, staring at her. Blushing, Molly took the lead, walking up them, through the open door and into the small house.

She stopped just inside the door, her forehead wrinkling in confusion. It was a nice house. Approximately two stories, with a neat kitchen, a dining table, sofas, a TV - it was so normal that Molly did a double-take to make sure she had gone in the right door. “Not the evil lair you were expecting?” Seb asked, amused. He had followed her in and continued forward, going into the kitchen. “We’ll need more food. Jim threw half of it out the other day, for some reason or another.”

“It was bad food,” Jim called from the hallway.

Seb rolled his eyes. Molly stifled a giggle, stroking Toby’s head. It was surreal, her current situation. Her boyfriend had just been - killed. She had gone home with the ones who killed him. She should feel sad. Scared. Sick. Instead, she wanted to smile and laugh. She was free. Toby butted her chin and she scratched behind his ears obediently. He wiggled in her arms so she let him go. He leaped elegantly to the ground, surveying his new territory before padding off into the kitchen.

“Bastard better not bite me,” Seb muttered, cataloging what was available in the fridge.

“He’ll need a litter box,” Molly said, brave enough to step closer and peek into the kitchen. Seb’s face changed, became disgruntled, and Molly had to stop a giggle at the sight of Toby winding his way around Seb’s shins. “He likes you.”

He raised his eyebrows at her in obvious skepticism before he shifted, opening the nearby cupboards without disturbing the cat. “You’re coming shopping,” Seb said, frowning at the bare shelves. “I’ll eat anything, I know what Jim likes, but you need to get stuff for you.”

“I -” Molly fell quiet, her cheeks burning. “My purse is back at my flat.” How stupid of her.

“Then you’ll just stop there first,” Jim drawled, sauntering back into the room. “Seb, I’m hungry.”

Seb shot the shorter man a vicious look. “You know how to cook.”

“We’re out of food,” Jim said, smiling.

Seb rubbed his forehead. “There’s some of the crisps you like. You can suffice with those.”

“I don’t want them.” Jim scowled now, his mood turning black. Molly watched them, glancing from one to the other. It didn’t feel scary. More like banter.

“You’ll eat the crisps and you’ll like them,” Seb retorted.

“I’ll kill you,” Jim threatened, taking a step towards him. Molly shrank back, her heart pounding suddenly. Had it been a mistake?

Seb rolled his eyes, unaffected. “He’s joking,” he told her. Molly glanced at him, straightening slowly, reassured. “It’s how he says ‘thank you’.”

“I’m not joking,” Jim muttered, stalking into the kitchen and grabbing a bag of crisps before leaving the room.

“Always the drama queen,” Seb said with a sigh.

“I heard that,” Jim said in his sing-song voice. Molly craned her neck, trying to see where he went without having to move, but the hallway was dark with too many closed doors.

“Right.” Seb ran a hand through his short hair then glanced down at Toby who was sitting right in front of his feet. “Think His Highness will let me move?”

Molly grinned despite herself. Toby stood, stretching luxuriously, and then sauntered out of the kitchen, hopping up on one of the chairs. “Is he okay there?” Molly asked anxiously, realizing that not everyone would be okay with cat hair everywhere.

“As okay as anything gets here.” Seb glanced around the room. Molly studied him curiously.

“You haven’t lived here long?” she guessed.

Seb looked at her, surprised. “A month, maybe two.” He smiled crookedly. “Not always a good idea to live in the same place for long, not in our line of work.”

Molly considered this. “What do you do?”

“Little bit of this, little bit of that,” Seb replied. “Don’t worry about it. Ready to go?”

Molly opened her mouth to agree and then realized that she was still in her crumpled work clothes. “We’re stopping by your old flat first,” Seb said nonchalantly. “You can get clothes and mark what you need.”

She swallowed. “Is he - still there?”

Something flitted across Seb’s face, something she couldn’t understand. “No.” His smile was icy now, enough that it scared Molly. “You’re safe now.”

She nodded, deciding to trust him, and walked towards the door. “Lead the way.”

“Ladies first,” Seb said with a slight smile. She grinned shyly, heading down to the stairs and listening to Seb lock the door behind them.

First stop was Molly’s flat. It was immaculate, something that surprised her. It hadn’t been that clean in a long time. Seb had her pull out the clothes she wanted to keep (after she changed, of course), any knickknacks that were special to her. Anything that she wanted to bring to her new life. Toby’s litterbox and toys were added to the pile, as well as his food and assorted accessories. Seb shook his head when Molly tried to bring the food from the refrigerator.

“Don’t know if it was poisoned,” was all he said. Molly raised her eyebrows in surprise but didn’t argue. Seb knew best, after all.

Next they went to a shop down the road. They went up and down the aisles, Seb pulling down what was needed for him and Jim (Molly was surprised to hear that he was a good cook) with Molly in charge of getting what she wanted. She was tentative, at first. Brian had been vocal about her food choices, criticising whatever she got. Seb, on the other hand, either smiled or simply nodded whenever she pointed at something. One time he asked her if she liked to cook.

“I’m not very good at it,” Molly admitted. It was something she had never mastered, not even living on her own. Brian had constantly berated her cooking abilities to the point Molly had simply stopped trying.

Seb shrugged. “I can teach you.”

She stared at him, not certain if he was joking. He didn’t meet her eyes. She narrowed her gaze. His cheeks were - “Are you blushing?”

“No.” His tone was brusque and he pushed the trolly forward.

“You are,” Molly said, delighted.

Seb scowled, but Molly felt no true animosity. “Are you done?”

“We’ll have to cook most of this.” She surveyed their choices. “Chicken.”

“Chicken,” Seb said with a roll of his eyes.

“Chicken,” Molly retorted. “I don’t like to cook with beef.”

Seb dutifully picked up the chicken she selected and they checked out without a fuss. Molly craned her head, trying to see the name on the card. She was curious, she couldn’t help it. Andrew Blaydon, she read. Frowning, Molly glanced at Seb, who was punching the requisite info into the pin and chip machine. Eventually their food was paid for and he picked up all but one of the bags. “That one’s for you,” he said, nodding towards it. Molly grabbed it on the way out, trailing behind him. He was carrying six bags, two of which were heavy, but he didn’t seem fazed.

“Thank you,” she said, trailing not far behind him. He glanced at her, seemingly startled.

“That’s not something you’ll hear often,” he commented, amused. “Not in our household.” Molly bit back a grin. She hadn’t thought that Jim was very thankful.

The walk back to the house seemed to take forever. Seb was silent, his eyes constantly moving. The bag grew heavier, and Molly passed it from hand to hand. Her chest was growing tight, her pulse speeding up. The world felt like it was closing in on her. What was she doing? What had she been thinking? At her command, Seb had killed another person. What gave her that right? And then there was Sherlock -

Sherlock.

Oh god, Sherlock.

He was going to find the body and trace it back to Seb and Jim and Molly and she would lose her job and - “Molly?” Seb looked at her, quizzical, and Molly realized she had come to a stop in the middle of the pavement. “We’re almost there.”

“Okay,” she said, or tried to say - she wasn’t sure if the word got out or not. Her breath was coming too fast and she felt oddly dizzy, but she stumbled after Seb nonetheless. He watched her for a moment, frowning, and then led the way up the stairs, Molly right behind him.

She dropped the bag as she got inside, going down on her knees as Toby appeared and walked right up to her. He graciously allowed her to hug him and she buried her face in his fur, picking him up as she stood. “Hello,” she murmured to the cat, scratching his ears. He purred, butting her chin in greeting.

“He missed you,” Jim drawled from the hallway, appearing near the kitchen.

Molly glanced at him. Her panic was easing, and her breathing was slower. Toby helped. “Did he bother you?”

“No.” Jim smiled. It was a crazy smile, but there was something nice about it, in Molly’s opinion. She glanced at Seb and saw him frowning at Jim.

“Do you want to see your bedroom?” Jim asked, watching Molly intently.

Molly nodded, starting in Jim’s direction. “I’ll show her,” Seb growled, glaring at Jim. Jim was smiling in return. He seemed amused, like there was a shared joke between the two of them that Molly wasn’t privy to. Seb stepped closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. Molly frowned, watching them go back and forth. Jim seemed unaffected, rolling his eyes or sighing in exasperation whenever Seb spoke. Seb was more animated, gesturing and pointing specifically at Jim when he talked.

Eventually there seemed to be a truce and Jim rolled his eyes, disappearing down the hallway and out of Molly’s line of sight. “That’ll last him about half an hour,” Seb muttered.

“What will?” Molly asked, trying to feel as brave as she sounded. She was out of her depth, there, surrounded by men much stronger than her. It was getting more and more difficult to shake the feeling that she had gone out of the frying pan and into the fire.

“He’s just being him,” Seb said with a shake of his head. “Your room is this way.” He gently reached out, scowling at Toby when the cat took a swipe at him. “Watch it, you prat,” he told the cat.

“Toby,” Molly chided, with no real scold in her voice.

Seb glanced at her with fond exasperation and then led the way. “You’re on the second floor,” he said, starting up the stairs. Molly looked around - checking for Jim, she told herself - and then followed. “There’s less security up here, so you won’t have to worry if we’re not home.”

“Security?” Molly asked.

“Er, right. Don’t worry about that.” Seb rolled his eyes at himself. “You’re the first door to the left.” He pushed it open and stepped in, waving a hand about. “It’s a bit dusty.”

Molly walked in, her eyes wide. It wasn’t a fancy room, nothing decorated like her room at home, but it was a nice one. There was a plain bed (a bit large for a single person), a wardrobe, a dresser and a desk. “It’s not fancy,” Seb said.

“It’s quite nice,” Molly protested, holding Toby closer.

“There’s a lock on the door.” Seb showed her how it worked. “And there’s a bathroom through that door over there. It’s for your use only. It also locks.”

A lot of locks, Molly thought but didn’t say. “Thank you.”

Seb offered her a faint smile. “Also. Er.” She glanced at him, curious. “Don’t be unnerved if your door’s unlocked when you get up.”

Molly frowned slightly. Toby hissed in her grasp and she realized she was squeezing him too tightly. Carefully she released him and he jumped to the floor, padding over to the bed and hopping up onto it. “Why?”

“Jim likes to unlock things when he’s bored,” Seb answered. “And dismantle things.”

“Sherlock does that,” Molly said before she could help herself. “The dismantle bit.”

Seb rolled his eyes. “Don’t tell him that,” he said. “He’ll do it even more.”

They shared a smile, his amused, hers shy, before he moved closer to the door. “They moved your belongings in here,” he told Molly, nodding towards the boxes in the corner. “Including your duvet. Toby’s things are in your bathroom for now. Don’t worry, it’s plenty large.” There was something wicked in his smile that she didn’t like, wasn’t comfortable with, but she ignored it for now.

“Thank you,” she said, not sure what else to say.

He inclined his head. “Do you need anything?”

“Food?” She looked hopeful.

“I’ll grab some of your snacks.” He closed the door behind him, leaving Molly alone. She stood there for a moment, glancing around, and then walked over to the bed.

“Guess it’s you and me,” she told Toby, who stared at her, his tail flicking.

He hopped down and went to investigate. She sat down, watching him explore. All the change was overwhelming, to the point she could barely handle it. Her breathing was still too fast, and she felt dizzy. It was like she was just about to tip over a cliff, but hadn’t made it there. Maybe she wouldn’t. “Here.” Seb had returned without her noticing. He was holding a packet of crisps and an apple.

“Thank you,” Molly said, a bit dazed. The words sounded a bit wrong - too breathy, not right - but Seb didn’t seem to notice.

Eventually he disappeared from Molly’s sight and she stood long enough to change into pyjamas, grab her duvet and a pillow, then curled up on the bed. She wasn’t certain she could handle any more than that, not now. Toby curled up next to her, his purr a rumbly comfort. Even then, it was too much to stand. It was like everything had happened all at once, all the thoughts she had been having swamping her and not letting go.

She, mousy Molly Hooper, had ordered for someone to be killed. Had been responsible for someone’s eradication from Earth. The thought made her sick to her stomach. She wanted to take it back, say no, run away and never let it find her. And Sherlock -

How was she going to face Sherlock at work, next time he came by? Sherlock would see it all over her face. Her breath was coming in short, sharp gasps. Her chest felt like it was being crushed by an elephant. She was going to go to jail and lose everything that she had worked so hard for. Everything was going to end and it was her fault and what had she been thinking?

It wasn’t like he had actually hurt her, she had deserved it after all, she had no right to react like she had - “Stop.” Jim’s voice, curt and threatening, broke into the train wreck that was her thoughts.

“I can’t,” Molly said, her voice breathy and louder than she had intended. “I can’t.”

Jim glanced at someone else - Seb? Molly could see Seb, just out of the corner of her eyes - and scowled, slinking out of the room. Why was he leaving? Was that good? Bad? Were they going to hurt her, kick her out?

“I’m sorry,” she babbled, curling into a ball and trying to cover her head with the pillow. It was ridiculous, losing control the way she did. She should be grateful that they had agreed to house her, should have thanked them for saving her the way they did. Breathing was difficult, her chest was so tight. Each inhale and exhale was a struggle.

“So you do autopsies?” Seb asked, his voice low, gentle. She glanced at him, eyes wide. What? “You’re a pathologist, Jim says.”

“Yes,” Molly said, and the word was hard, but she said it.

“Do you like working on forensic cases?” He sat on the bed next to her but didn’t touch her. There, comforting, but not insisting. She liked it, curled around his form but not initiating contact. Not yet.

“Yes.” Molly frowned, trying to gather her scrambled mind. “They’re like puzzles.”

“You like puzzles, then?” His voice was patient. She took a shaky breath.

“Cause of death is like a mystery,” Molly said, the words slow but sure. “You have to put together all of the information and find the right outcome.” She frowned slightly. Her chest was easing, her breathing easier. “Sometimes you never find an answer.” Now they were both quiet, the silence spooling out between them. It didn’t feel wrong, to Molly. It felt oddly right.

“You did the right thing,” Seb said, his voice darker than she had anticipated. She frowned.

“I didn’t - I had no right.”

“Do you want me to get a mirror, to show you what he did to you?” Seb asked bluntly. “The world doesn’t need scum like him.”

Part of Molly wanted to leap to Brian’s defense. It hadn’t been his fault. If she hadn’t been so worthless, so useless, he never would have had to do what he did. But - her cases. All the forensic cases she had solved, all the times she had helped the Yard to identify a cause of death - help them get closer to putting the killer behind bars. That wasn’t useless, was it? It wasn’t ridiculous. She had done something, something useful, something important.

“Molly,” Seb said, his voice low, insistent. “Nothing he said meant anything.” He was watching her intently, and she looked at him, vacillating between frightened and hopeful.

“Maybe,” she mused finally, after she had been quiet for quite some time. “Maybe.” She could breathe now, normally and without pain. The panic had gone, at least for a bit.

“Get some sleep,” Seb said, awkwardly patting her shoulder.

“Seb?” Molly worked up the courage to say, just as he got to the door.

“Yes?” He frowned slightly - not irritated, more curious.

“Thank you.” She offered him a tremulous smile.

He studied her for a few moments and then nodded before disappearing and closing the door behind him.


End file.
